Golden Thread
by igirisexual
Summary: Even through scandal and a broken family, Arthur has become quite the tailor. His only problem with his job is that he has to work for the royals. And he /despises/ royals. When the princes come to place an order, he certainly doesn't expect one of them to fall in love with him. Tailor!UK x Royal!Can.
1. Chapter 1

**again i try to write a multi-chapter fic.. here goes nothing**

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Arthur _hated_ the royals. He despised them with everything he had. If one was to ask him, he would ramble on for a long time about how they mistreated those of the town, how they kept servants and slaves. However, although he did resent them for that, the initial reason he had grown to hate them was quite different.

As a part of his family's predicament, they had been practically sold to the royals. It was sickening. They worked for next to nothing in their little shop just outside of the castle. Arthur's mother had been a noble. Olivia, her name was. She had been a beautiful woman, with long strawberry-blonde hair, and lovely blue eyes. Even when she had been alive, Arthur had barely known her. She had been somewhere in line to the throne, rich, and just perfect in so many ways. She had been married to a foul and petty nobleman, who mistreated her and often tried to take her money. His father, on the other hand, was an American, one who had fled his own country in search of better work in Britain. He had told Arthur that the prospect of adventure had originally drew him to the isle. His skin was tanned, and he bore a messy mop of dark red hair. Al. He swore on and on about being the best tailor in the world, too. A passionate and vocal man, he became quite successful, and opened a tailory.

His mother had met his father on a trip to his shop, the tailory, and had instantly become smitten. Their love, although illicit, was true, and they had ended up having quite a family. Arthur did have three older brothers and a sister, after all. Her husband had called her out after all of the years that he had tolerated her infidelity. Only a scant few days after Arthur had been born, April twenty-third, had she been dragged back to the castle by guards to be questioned. She had left Arthur only one thing; the amulet he wore tight around his neck at all times.

She had been punished by the cruel nobleman, to the point where she would plead for death to come. It did not though, and for many years, she bore a false smile and tried to carry on. She was no longer allowed out of the castle without guards escorting her. Arthur's father, of course, knew that she had been taken away, but not much else other than that. As punishment for being part of his wife's infidelity, the nobleman ordered that their tailory become part of the castle, and that they were no longer to be free people.

It had been a dark evening when Arthur's mother decided to sneak out. Arthur was perhaps ten at the time. He had no memory of his mother then, only knowing about her from the stories that his father would tell; of her beauty, of the way she would bake fresh bread, of her singing to his brothers and sister when they had troubles getting to sleep. Arthur was jealous of his siblings, who had gotten to know for at least a while what having a mother was like.

The back door was hastily rapped upon, and answered even more hastily by Arthur's father. The woman was allowed inside, and embraced tightly. Whispers from the next room, things Arthur didn't understand. He was awake, unable to sleep this evening. On short legs, he wandered over to the door of the room he shared with his siblings, and pressed his ear against it to try and listen better.

His efforts were interrupted as the door was pushed open, and he stumbled back, landing on his behind. Even though he had only seen her face once, he knew the woman as his mother. He tried to say something, but in awe and surprise, no words escaped him. As he had been behind the door, she didn't even notice him.

She flurried about the room, kissing the foreheads of each of his siblings and whispering various things. After counting them, she flinched, and seemed to panic. Arthur stepped out, and she turned in an instant.

She said his name. Her voice was melodious, British, and as beautiful as his father had described. Unable to speak, Arthur toddled closer, and quickly pressed himself against her in his attempt at a hug. She uttered things quietly, showered him in kisses, and apologized for not being there for him. His mother had only a few words left to say now, and she insisted that the amulet Arthur wore, it was for him to sell if he ever needed money for something important. Then, she told him she loved him. And left.

Arthur watched in confusion as she walked out of the room, and went to his father, who had tears rolling down his cheeks. He stumbled into the living room, but his father told him to go back to sleep. He couldn't though. He was restless, and excited to be seeing his mother. His father pleaded, and his mother just stared at him with painfully upset eyes.

There were loud footsteps, and their front door was knocked down to the ground. Arthur was terrified, to say the least. A party of guards stood in the doorway now, seeming to look smug. Arthur's mother took a step away from his father, to which the man protested. Everything seemed to go wrong in seconds.

Arthur had seen the sword pierce right through her. As it was pulled out, warm blood gushed from the wound, and his mother dropped to her knees, and then to the floor entirely. He didn't understand what 'treason' meant at the time, and he definitely didn't have a clue what was going on. His father screamed in protest, but a blade was aimed to the man's throat, and he quickly shut up. The royal guards picked up his mother's body and left, leaving them with their door broken down, and bloodstains on the floor. He began to cry. His father shakily made his way over, and embraced him, telling him that he was sorry. It had only been five years since.

Arthur felt a little prick on his finger, and glanced down. Lost in his reverie of bad memories, he had messed up his needlework, and ruined a part of his stitching. He had even managed to poke himself with the needle. Brilliant. Sighing, he put his work down for now, and retired to the backroom. He had been working all morning, anyway, and decided it was time to eat.

After washing his finger, Arthur went about to pick out some food. No-one in the family was brilliant at cooking, so most of the food they bought was pretty basic. Unable to find anything better, Arthur took some bread and cheese, and sat down at their table. Today, they were due to be visited by the royals, and have orders placed for most probably exquisite clothes. As much as Arthur detested the nobles, they paid well sometimes.

As their family had practically been sold to the castle, their wares were expected free to the royals who lived there. His father had argued about this as of late, and had managed to get the royals to start paying again, even if it was just a little. Snobby and arrogant, Arthur hated the lot of them. It disgusted him ever so much that he had royal blood in his veins, too.

He finished the dry meal, and washed it down with fresh-squeezed orange juice that his brother had made. Arthur found it amusing how they kept coming by fresh fruit and even vegetables sometimes. He knew, of course, that his brothers were becoming skilled thieves, and wasn't sure whether to worry for them, or be thankful. Well, he was a bit of both. Being in such close proximity to the castle meant that his brothers could quickly sneak in, take whatever they needed, and sneak out without too much hassle. And so, they ate rather well if the stealing was good.

Arthur returned to his needlework in the storefront, grumbling as he fixed up his stitches. The material he worked with now would be uncomfortable to wear, and wouldn't last too long, but it was cheap. That was probably why the commissioner had chosen such linens. He was used to customers coming in without much coin, and used to using iffy materials that he would rather not. But that was being fussy.

As much as he told himself that he hated working for the royals, he could use much softer and more vibrant fabrics for them, as they had the materials delivered, and then he could work with those. Perhaps he was a touch lame for getting excited at the thought, but he was eager to make wares that were more fanciful that that he made for common folk.

After an hour or so of work, the bell at the door sounded. Customers. Arthur looked up with eager eyes, but frowned at the sight of royals. The king himself was not here, nor was he ever, but today, his sons and nephew had dropped in. Arthur had never seen them before, and he didn't quite know what to think. They had only had lower-ranked nobles in, previously.

"_Bonjour_, we 'ave arrived!" The King's nephew sang, stepping into the store in an overly showy motion. Arthur narrowed his eyes. He never had liked the French.

"Welcome, welcome! We've been waiting!" His father laughed softly, one hand on his hip. "Arthur," he froze at the sound of his name. "Come and say hello, stop hiding in the corner over there."

He was hesitant, especially so as he didn't wish to create a bad impression towards these royals, doubly so because any slip-ups may sully his father's reputation. Slowly, he rose to his feet, and ambled over to his place beside his father.

"Arthur, meet Viscount Francis, and the princes, Alfred, and Matthew." His father said with a smile – toothy but also not so, as some of his teeth were missing – and waited for Arthur to say something.

"Mm.. It's a pleasure." He lied with gritted teeth, giving each of them a look over. The Viscount, the French one, he looked like he was quite the arrogant prick. He held himself high, and seemed to stick his nose up as he glimpsed around the tailory. The princes, well, he knew their faces. It would be strange if he didn't. They were the king's pride and joy, after all.

Alfred was the boisterous and obnoxious one, although he was next in line for the throne. From what Arthur heard on the streets, he was annoying, and his manners were atrocious. The king was still trying to straighten his behaviour out, apparently. And then, there was Matthew. The quiet one. He knew that this boy wasn't heard speaking too much, and that he was much more sophisticated and polite than his brother. Also, Matthew looked a little like a lady.

With nothing else to say, Arthur returned to his work as his father sorted business. During the day, his brothers would either be out doing various chores, or back working at the store. Today, they were doing the former, and Arthur was thankful for the lack of severe noise. At night, they did their thievery, so most of the evening was quiet, also. Except for when they came back home and celebrated their spoils, of course.

It seemed that his father had allowed the customers to look around, as Arthur looked up to see one of them standing to his side, appearing as if he had just said something. He almost jumped, having not seen the boy approach.

"I said, nice amulet." The prince uttered quietly with a smile. "What is it, a sapphire?" It was the quieter one, Matthew.

"It's not for sale," Arthur muttered grimly, tucking the pendant down the collar of his shirt. "Get your eyes off of it."

"Oh, I don't wish to buy. I was simply admiring it, that's all." This boy, judging by his face and voice, was just a year or so younger than Arthur. Great. "I didn't expect a tailor's son to have such a thing." Angered, Arthur grunted and put down his needlework for a moment.

"Just go away, princess. Leave me be." He muttered, practically shooting daggers.

"Princess? I don't believe I look _that_ feminine," the boy continued, glancing down at his figure and looking from side to side. "Although, I think I would look quite funny in a ball gown."

"Unless you order one, you don't get a ball gown. Go and talk to my father. He's the one who sorts business. I'm of no interest to you." He spat, frustrated.

"I think you're quite interesting, Arthur, was it?"

Arthur was quite unamused. It was rare for him to talk to customers for this long, as his father took charge and ran through getting orders and the like. Perhaps, if he ignored this prince, he would go away. And so, that was the plan.

"Are you sure I can't look at that amulet again? It seemed quite beautiful." He didn't answer. He didn't want to, either. That amulet was sacred to him, and he definitely wasn't going to let just anyone inspect it. Especially a noble.

"Oh, alright, uhm.. Are you enjoying this spot of sunny weather?" How desperate was this prince, anyway? Was he going to get the message and leave?

"Not into the weather? Well.. Oh, I know! Your father says you're quite the tailor in the making. Do you have a favourite type of garment to make?" Dresses. Arthur loved to make dresses. Each one would end up beautiful, and unique, and they looked brilliant if made correctly. Doing his best not to show any response, he picked up the bit of cloth that he had been working on, and continued. If this boy was going to insist on being so friendly, Arthur just inwardly laughed and thought that he was better off being amiable with someone else.

"Maybe I'll just go.." the prince murmured, starting to fiddle with his hands. Arthur almost cheered in his head. "Right, well, perhaps I'll see you around," he uttered, before quaintly turning and wandering over to where his cousin and brother were.

Arthur almost wondered if he had been a little too sour towards prince Matthew, but shrugged it off and concentrated on his work. He had to get it finished quickly, because soon his father would relay to him the royals' order. Really, he was itching to get creating with soft fabrics, and even velvet if he was lucky. Finally, the nobles left the shop, and Arthur could relax a little.

At the sound of footsteps, he glanced up, only to see his father trudging over towards him.

"Did ya' have to be so cold, kid? That softy prince who came and talked to you looked like he was gonna cry when he joined us again." His father mused, a little disappointed in Arthur's behaviour.

"Probably not used to _not_ being the center of attention for once," Arthur sneered, unfazed by the situation. "Dammed snob."

"I think you're judgin' a book by its cover, Art'." His father scolded quietly. "The only snob out of those three was the smelly Viscount. Other two seemed kinda modest."

"Don't you have some orders to process? I want to know what I get to be making this month," Arthur puffed. He didn't care to speak about the nobles anymore, anyway. He was sure that if he did, he would just start to feel sick.

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**i hope you liked the first chapter uwu**


	2. Chapter 2

Matthew wiped at his eyes as he left the store, with one of his cousin's arms around his shoulders.

"Was I speaking too quietly?.. Or was I just being boring?.." he pondered softly.

"Oh, _mon ami_, I am sure it is just that he is a sour brute!" Francis pouted. "You know how those peasants are. I don't understand why you try to talk to them, Matthieu!"

"If you wanna talk to peasants, we've got tons of servants that've been dragged off the streets," Alfred laughed, nudging his brother's side gently.

"They would resent me or think I was making fun of them, though," Matthew sighed, flicking blond curls over his shoulder. "I thought the boy in the shop would be of a nicer kind."

"I cannot believe you said he looked 'cute', of all things," scoffed the Viscount, clearly amused. "He looks like a dirty peasant with straw for hair. But if you're looking for someone beautiful, well," with this, Francis winked.

"That's unpleasant, you're my cousin," Matthew murmured, unsettled. "I'm going to try to talk to him again, the next time I see him," he pouted, determined to prove to Francis that common peasants were people too.

"God, what next, you run off to join the people on the street? Besides, don't you talk to that one lady servant back home? That's not enough?" groaned Alfred, annoyed by his brother's attitude. "Just accept that peasants suck, and we're great!"

"That's so childish of you to say, though," he sighed, rubbing his temples.

"I was kidding, I mean, they're _okay_. But they're dirty, and they smell, and I don't get you at all." Alfred yawned as he walked down the street with his companions. The people that had been previously walking by had cleared to either side of the street, leaving a wide gap for the nobles to walk through. They didn't do that out of respect, though, it was a movement made in fear.

They returned to the castle without much issue, and Matthew quickly retired up to the library. In this part of the castle, a poor woman by the name of Katyusha worked to clean and keep the books in order. Matthew was a kind prince, and had made friends with her after showing that he didn't bite. From what she had told him, he knew that she had family trying to survive in the downtown part of the city, a younger brother and sister. Admittedly, Matthew did give her bits of gold and things that she could sell to help support herself and her loved ones. Today, he just needed to relax, and take things off his mind.

As much as he didn't want to think about it, that rude boy from the tailory was burned into his mind. Even with those monstrous brows and pissy scowl, Matthew managed to find the boy attractive. He would die before he would breathe a word of any kind of crush to his brother or cousin. They would most probably make fun of him for having kind thoughts on just a peasant.

Perhaps he would order a ball gown after all, just for a chance to drop in again. It wouldn't be a garment for him, though.

"Katyusha?" He called softly, smiling slightly as the woman turned and shuffled over towards him.

"Yes, my prince?" She answered, doing a faint curtsy.

"Please, you know just to call me Matthew.. Anyway, may I have your fitting sizes, if you know them?" He asked with a tiny smile. The payment for this would come out of his own pocket, of course.

"Oh, I have them written down from a long while ago," She murmured. "But I would need to go and fetch the paper from the servant's quarters.. May I ask why you require them?" Katyusha asked softly.

"Friends give gifts, _non_?" Matthew answered softly, before suggesting Katyusha go and retrieve the measurements with a nod.

She was still a little suspicious, but headed off, and returned a minute later. "They might be a little off, since it has been quite a while," She shrugged, handing over the paper.

"Thank you, Katyusha. I'll be able to give you your gift soon, then."

"Are you sure that it's alright to be giving a servant gifts like this?.. Your generosity with gold is already so much help, but I needn't be a burden to you," Katyusha whimpered, looking as if she was about to cry.

"Don't fret. The gold for this is coming out of my own pocket, and I don't mind spending coin on friends." Matthew assured, patting his friend's shoulder softly. "It is exactly what Alfred would do for a companion, excepting that our kind of company differs. So it is very much alright." Although he said this, he would make sure to tell her later that if anyone was to ask, she was to say that she saved up for a long time and purchased the gift herself.

He spent the rest of the evening in his room, not feeling hungry enough to want to make his way to the banquet hall. His brother told him off when he returned to the room that they shared. They shared it not because of a lack of space, but more so because they were very close as brothers. Alfred was giving him a lecture about showing up for dinner, and then boasting about how awesome the food was. Matthew rolled his eyes.

It came time for the brothers to sleep, but Matthew just tossed and turned in his bed. Various things played at him, and picked at his brain. That damned tailor boy was the main cause of his fretfulness. And quickly, he began to criticize himself. He'd been too quiet, again. He hadn't said the right things. He was boring. Grunting quietly, Matthew curled up into a ball and tried to focus on sleep instead.

He awoke the next morning with weary eyes. He sat up and wiped them with one hand. A servant aided with getting he and his brother dressed and presentable for breakfast. They feasted in the banquet hall, truly and literally a meal fit for a king. Belly full, Matthew announced to his father that he was to be going out, and his brother was assigned to join him. He hadn't particularly wanted to have Alfred tag along, but his father wouldn't allow him to go alone.

They traveled quietly, with Matthew leading. It was a short trip to the tailory, and Matthew hesitantly pushed the door open. Again, Arthur's father greeted them. He exchanged pleasantries with the man, before asking to speak to Arthur. Al seemed apprehensive about that, but told him that his son was probably in one of the rooms in the back.

"Thank you," Matthew hummed, parting from his brother to visit the tailor's son. He knocked against the door, gentle in case the old door were to put splinters in his knuckles.

"Good morning.. It is I, prince Matthew. I have come to pay you a visit." He started, waiting for some kind of response. He was anxious and wondering if he would even get a reply today.

"Come in," a voice responded, and Matthew's face lit up like a lantern in the dead of night. And so, he opened the door, and stepped inside.

A boy, taller than Arthur, greeted him. He was a little different from the boy he'd been expecting; he was freckled and had a messy mop of ginger hair, but had those same forest green eyes.

"What's a noble wantin' from me, except free clothes?" He asked, looking at Matthew rather skeptically.

"Oh, uh," Matthew mumbled. He had prepared a script for talking to Arthur, not this boy. He had to make things up as he went along now, and he was a little frightened. "I was looking for Arthur.."

"Well, I'm Liam," the boy scoffed, going about doing things in what Matthew guessed to be the kitchen. "If you're lookin' for the runt, he's out in the woods with Allistor right now."

"The woods?.. Why is he there?" Matthew mumbled, caught off guard, and a little unsettled with how Arthur was referred to as a runt. Also, was going into the woods every now and then a common peasant thing? This was new.

"Allistor's trying to teach him to hunt," Liam laughed, amused at the thought. Unlike Arthur, this boy seemed to be pleasant, and Matthew smiled slightly. "If the old man will let me out of the house, Prince, I can take you to where he is."

Matthew nodded. "I'd appreciate that, Liam."

Liam washed his hands, dried them, and then walked past Matthew in the doorway to talk to his father. As their chatter finished up, Liam grunted and turned away, facing Matthew with a grim expression. "Alright, turns out the old man mixed his sons up again," he murmured, gruff. "But I still have to stay here. I can give you directions though."

"What're you guys talking about?" Ah, it was Alfred.

"The boy I came to see is out right now, and Liam here is to give me directions to his current location." Matthew explained, nodding. Liam dipped his head as well, and began to relay various instructions to get to what he explained to be a small clearing a little ways into the woods.

Before they were to leave, Matthew made an order for a ball gown, and handed over the measurements that Katyusha had given him last night. The princes now set off, saying their quiet farewells to the tailors.

"Oh boy, Dad would never let us into the woods by ourselves," laughed Alfred, hands in his pockets as they started down the street.

"Exactly why we must be careful, Alfred," Matthew murmured, frowning. "But still, I think it's nice to have a little bit of adventure."

"I'm so excited!" the blond chirped, perky as ever. "I'm gonna see a deer," he boasted.

"You can't just say that you're going to see a deer," chided Matthew, rolling his violet eyes. "It'd probably be better if you didn't come, or if we didn't go at all. We could just wait for Arthur to come back."

"Yeah, but your dirty peasant boyfriend might not be back until late-"

"He's not a dirty peasant, he's a tailor.. And he is _not_ my boyfriend!" interjected Matthew, cheeks flushed red, and voice squeaky and indignant. "We've talked once, and he didn't even reply for half of our conversation," he mumbled.

"Sorry, future dirty peasant boyfriend, seeing as how you're so intent on talking to him." Alfred scoffed, giving his brother a little shove and taking quick steps forward so that Matthew could not echo the gesture.

Matthew was silenced by embarrassment until they reached the outer edge of the city. Alfred was already whining about his legs hurting, but Matthew chose to ignore it.

"Liam said that we go in a straight line to the right from the edge of the castle wall.." he murmured, pointing in the direction of where he supposed they were supposed to go. "I can hardly believe we're doing this.."

"Kinda silly for a tailor boy you met yesterday, a peasant no less." Alfred mused, rolling his eyes. "And I'm gonna have mud on my shoes, gross," he grumbled.

"It'll just be dirt, Alfred. It hasn't been raining enough lately for there to be mud right now." Matthew stated, leading through into the vegetation.

After perhaps five to ten minutes of Alfred complaining and tripping on everything while Matthew tried to ignore him, they finally reached the clearing. It was void of people, and Matthew frowned. After walking around and inspecting it for a little while, he noticed a few arrows lodged into a tree trunk, and a bow tucked away under some kind of grass covering.

"Arthur?" He called, a little nervous. Had Liam tricked him, back at the store?

"I don't get it, wasn't he supposed to be here with some Allistor guy?" Alfred asked, nudging Matthew worriedly. "Can we go already? It smells like dirt here and I think a bug bit me."

"No, he should be here.. Come on, we should try looking for him, at least."

"Really, do we have to? I mean, it's not like he matters to us." Alfred muttered sourly, crossing his arms and pouting like a child. "I don't want to get lost in the forest because of some dumb peasant."

"Alfred, now's not the time to be a condescending prick," murmured Matthew. "Arthur might be missing or he could've been attacked by something. I think it's our duty to find him."

Again, he called for Arthur, wandering a little way out of the clearing to try and locate the boy.

"Here!" A voice hollered, and Matthew tensed.

"Alfred, I heard him!" Matthew called, waiting for his brother before searching out the location of the voice. Alfred joined him, and together, they ambled towards the voice.

They passed through some obstructive shrubs, and Matthew had to hold back some chuckling as the sight before them unfolded. There was Arthur, suspended in the air by a rope hooked on his ankle. Upside-down, two feet above the ground, and looking ever grouchy, there he was.

"Oh, it's you. And your brother." He sneered at Matthew, crossing his arms to try and appear forceful. Despite his efforts, it was hard to look tough when he was dangling by one leg from a bent tree. "Go away, princes. And no, I don't care why you're here."

"You don't want me to help you down, at least?" Matthew asked, raising a brow. "You don't seem to be able to by yourself."

"Shut up," Arthur grunted, letting his arms hang down by his head again. "I'm still thinking up a way to get myself down. I don't need your help. So leave me be."

"For a peasant, you're a stubborn bastard," Alfred commented, watching the tailor's son just dangling there and trying not to laugh too loudly. "And kinda stupid."

"Alfred-" hissed Matthew, before sighing. "Are you sure you don't want me to help you?" He asked, tilting his head.

"I can manage without some putrid and rather rude nobles ruining my day." Arthur puffed, looking away.

"You say that while you're hanging helplessly, and who knows how the hell you got up there," snickered Alfred.

"Please wait, Arthur, and try to tolerate brother dear," Matthew sighed, before disappearing through the foliage again to go to the clearing.

"Why don't you go with him and not come back?" Arthur grunted, staring down at Alfred with poison in his eyes. "From what I can tell, you're a snob who seems to think shit of anyone below you," he judged.

"I'm allowed to think like that," Alfred scoffed, sticking out his tongue. "I'm gonna be king when Pa kicks it, so I'll be higher than everyone, and they'll all be below the brilliant and all-powerful me." He smirked, nodding.

"Ugh, you're a whole new reason to hate royalty," Arthur muttered.

Matthew had returned to the clearing, and went over to the tree with the arrows. He gripped onto the shaft of one of them, and with some effort, pulled it from the trunk. It didn't take long to find where he had left Alfred and Arthur. That was mainly because he could hear cacophonous laughter, and loud shouting.

"I'm back," he stated quietly, just taking a moment to observe Arthur trying his very best to swing his fists at Alfred, who just took a step back and watched the boy desperately struggle in the air. "Alfred, what did you say?" He asked softly, seeing as Arthur was lost and blinded in a barrage of insults upon the royal name.

"I said that deducing from his looks and attitude, his mother's an ugly street urchin, and his father's a stuffy old man." Alfred scoffed.

Matthew took a deep breath, and then released it in a weary sigh. "Alfred, please stand under him and catch him when I cut the rope," he instructed, before moving over to the young tree. Steadily, and unsurely (he had never climbed a tree like this before) he clung tight to the bendy trunk. Once he had shuffled along far enough to reach where the rope was tied, he used the head of the arrow to saw at it.

It finally gave way, and the tree sprang back to standing straight, with Matthew clinging onto it again in fear. The yelling had stopped, and as he descended, saw Arthur laying on his back on the ground. "Alfred," Matthew hissed. "You were supposed to catch him!"

"Whoops," murmured Alfred, shrugging. "Didn't catch the peasant trash." Matthew gave him a stern look, before shuffling over to the boy on the ground.

Arthur seemed a little stunned, as he had taken the brunt of the fall on his head and shoulders.

"Are you alright, Arthur?" Matthew murmured, crouching.

"Yeah.. I didn't need your help," Arthur grumbled. He would never admit that he did.

"Maybe he should work in the castle as a slave so some manners can be driven into him," Alfred sneered. What a rude remark; how ironic that was. Matthew chose to ignore his brother for now.

Arthur insisted on getting up on his own, using his spindly arms to push himself up off the ground.

"Are you going to tell us how you even got up there in the first place?" Matthew asked, a little hurt that Arthur didn't even thank him for the rescue. Perhaps Arthur wasn't that familiar with manners, he thought.

"My brother was supposed to be here teaching me some more archery, but he decided to let me train while he went to the tavern," Arthur grunted, pushing past the brothers and going into the clearing. "So I went for a bit of a walk, and got stuck in a hunter's trap."

The princes followed, watching as Arthur stowed away the bow in a tree hollow, and tugged the arrows out of the tree trunk to follow suit and tuck them away. It seemed that perhaps being right side up once more was causing some dizziness, as the boy managed to trip over a root, and fall to the ground.

"Arthur!" Matthew exclaimed, once again hurrying to the boy's side. "Are you sure that you're alright?.. Are you alright now?" Meanwhile, Alfred just laughed at his clumsiness.

"Go away!" Arthur hissed, clearly in pain as he tried to sit again. "I'm absolutely fine! Just go! You disgusting princes shouldn't even be in the woods!"

"I wouldn't say we're disgusting," Matthew chided softly, confidence faltering. "Perhaps Alfred, but not the both of us," he murmured, extending a gloved hand to help Arthur to his feet. Frowning, the scruffy boy stared at it for quite a while, and then looked up to meet Matthew's eyes. The prince sighed and pulled his hand back, and started to turn.

"Wait-" Arthur said quickly, shooting his own hand out. "Just.. help me to my feet, princess."

A small smile graced Matthew's lips, and he helped Arthur up. The boy seemed to lean against him as they tried to walk again, refusing to walk by himself for now. He had a noticeable limp now, most probably because of some kind of dislocation from the hard trip.

"Come on, the city's back this way," Arthur mumbled, hobbling along with Matthew to his side, and Alfred wandering behind them.

"I came to visit you today at the tailory, but you weren't there," Matthew commented softly, after a long while of silent travel. It was hard not to notice Arthur being silent and staring away. "I ordered a ball gown after all, as I was inspired by our little banter yesterday. I gave the measurements to your father, though."

"A ball gown?.." Arthur echoed, pausing in his lopsided stead. "A ball gown!.." He repeated, perking up considerably. "Oh, er," he noticed his fault in character. "A ball gown, that's nice. I like making gowns.." he admitted softly.

This softness was a pleasant change, and Matthew couldn't help but smile as he aided Arthur along. "It's for my friend, a gift."

"You have _friends_?" Alfred asked, stretching his arms as they exited the woods and started on actual cobblestone path again, headed back into the city. "Friends don't count if they're peasants or poorfolk."

"Katyusha, one of the servants at the castle, one of my closest friends." Matthew answered quaintly. "She tells me about how she'd like to be like a princess, wearing pretty frocks and coming to the dances," he continued quietly. "Even if she cannot attend the dance, Alfred, I still wish to gift her with a dress."

Arthur paused in his hobbling, turning to look at Matthew with confused green eyes.

"Why would you do that?.. Are you getting some kind of sexual reward from her?" He asked, taking the prince by surprise.

"N-no?!.. Goodness, we're friends, nothing more." Matthew stammered. "I think she would become happy with this present, and her happiness is enough of a return gift," he wheezed, shaking his head quickly to clear his thoughts.

"Oh come on, you've gotta be getting with her, she's got breasts the size of-"

"Shut up, prince," Arthur interrupted, glaring at Alfred now. He had been admittedly captured by Matthew's ideals, and was actually starting to consider that perhaps he was tolerable.

"Don't tell me to shut up, lowly tailor! I am your prince, soon to be your king!" Alfred grunted, nostrils flaring with sudden anger.

"I'll have you know that my family are the best tailors in the city, we are not lowly in the least!" retorted Arthur, clenching his hands into fists. "In fact, you're wearing clothes made by our hand right now, so I suggest you shut your mouth, or stride about naked!"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Alfred sneered, balling his hands into fists also. As Arthur was about to yell an 'I'd rather sew my eyes onto a horse's behind', Matthew spoke up.

"Brother, Arthur, please!" Matthew squeaked, having to physically hold the injured boy back to stop him from lunging at the prince. "We've almost returned to the tailory, so please refrain from fighting!" He exclaimed, holding back Arthur with just one hand, and using his other to point to the aforementioned building.

Arthur tugged himself out of Matthew's restraint, and grumbled something indistinct. After that little incident, he tried to get along without the prince's support. Trying to hold onto his pride, Arthur limped pathetically forward, before slumping tiredly against the wall of the tailory.

"You two can leave now," He muttered, pushing open the door and not waiting for a response.

"He's a real charmer," Alfred murmured sarcastically, giving his brother a look that said '_Really, Matthew? Really?_'.

"He's probably rude to you because you're an oblivious and condescending asshole," Matthew sighed. "I'm sorry, that was uncouth of me to point out."

"Well, you know what, whatever!" Alfred scoffed, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I'm going home. Have fun playing with the trash."

Matthew pouted, and watched his brother start to march off. He was probably going to go and soak in a bath now to get the smell of forest off of him. Matthew reminded himself to do the same, later. Turning, he knocked gently on the tailory door, before pushing it open, and hearing the bell ring quietly above his head.

Al, sitting at one of the storefront workstations, gave him a little wave and pointed to the corner on the other side of the room, where Arthur was sitting down with Liam to his side. As Matthew neared, he saw what was actually going on with the brothers. Liam had Arthur's leg in his hands, and was counting down. As he reached zero, he made a sharp movement, and Arthur let out a weak cry of pain, eyes screwed shut.

"What're you doing to him?!" Matthew squeaked, concerned for the blond boy. "Stop this at once!"

Arthur opened one eye at his exclamation, and then the other. "It's fine, princess," he murmured, letting out a quiet sigh of relief. "He fixed my leg up."

"You're welcome, runt," Liam yawned, ruffling Arthur's already-messy hair before moving off to the kitchen.

"Goodness me," Matthew murmured. "That's a little rough, though, isn't it?"

"It's happened before," Arthur shrugged. "I've made my fair share of blunders. Surely, as have you, princess."

"Is there a reason you keep calling me that?" he laughed softly, awkwardly taking a seat beside Arthur.

"I'm not usually fond of giving nicknames, but that one seems to suit you," he smirked. "Oh, also, I feel I was a little rough on you yesterday, mm?.."

Matthew's face fell, and he nodded meekly. He'd certainly beat himself up about that. "Oh, don't worry about it," he sighed, shrugging.

"It's rare for me to see a royal who's not obsessed with themselves, women, wine, or food." Arthur grumbled, picking up a piece of paper that had been left at his workstation. "So you're a pleasant diamond in the rough, so far."

"I'm a diamond?" Matthew murmured, not really getting the saying, but taking it as a compliment and blushing accordingly. "That's nice of you to say.."

"Erm, not what I meant, but sure, you're a diamond." Arthur conceded, shrugging. "Is there a certain colour you want this gown to be in? Certain materials?" He asked, eager as he showed the bit of paper bearing the order back to Matthew.

"Do whatever you think would look best, Arthur," Matthew hummed, giving a little smile. "Just make it as beautiful as you can."

Arthur's jaw dropped. "Really? You're giving me that liberty?" He asked, flabbergasted and trying not to start grinning like a fool. Matthew nodded. "I must say, thank you very much," he hummed, practically buzzing with excitement. "Without a definite design down yet, I can't say when it will be done, but feel free to drop in at any time to check how it's coming along," Arthur chirped with a smile.

Matthew felt his heart melting in his chest. This Arthur, this kind and sweet Arthur, god, it was enough to make his heart race, and his mind become lost in thoughts of the boy. And the fact that Arthur had practically invited him to visit at any time.. Matthew felt his breath hitch in his throat as he tried to figure out what to do or say. He was too lost in Arthur's beautiful and slightly lopsided smile to have any kind of cohesive thought.

"Still there, princess?" Arthur asked, waving a hand in front of the prince's face.

"Y-yes, I'm still here! I just zoned out a bit, that's all." He puffed, kicking himself for doing so.

"I was saying that you can visit whenever you'd like, to check on the gown, of course." He repeated.

"Oh, yes, I caught that," Matthew laughed softly, resting his hands in his lap. "I'll bring you the money tomorrow, yes?"

"If you mean to my father, then yes." Arthur corrected, nodding and finding something to illustrate a design on. "I don't take money directly from customers, and my sister's the proper treasurer."

"Right, got it." Matthew hummed.

"I think perhaps I should take my leave," Matthew stated after a while of silence, smiling awkwardly and standing up. Arthur stood as well, eyes locked on Matthew's.

"Fare well, Matthew," he stated, dipping his head and quickly turning away.

"You said my name," Matthew observed softly, cherishing the moment and trying not to smile like he was in complete adoration of the tailor boy.

"Should I have said princess?" Arthur asked softly. Matthew could've sworn he saw a slight pinkening of the boy's cheeks.

"I don't mind what you call me, as long as it's not an insult," Matthew laughed quietly, bowing as a goodbye.

"R-right!" Arthur stammered, straightening up and snapping to focus. "Fare well, Matthew." He repeated, except without the smile this time. "Please drop in when you have some time to spare."

With that, Arthur grabbed the order paper and dashed off into another room. Confused and charmed, Matthew stumbled back towards the entrance, when Arthur's father called him over.

"Psst, prince kid," Al whispered, smiling. "C'mere."

Matthew, suspicious, approached, standing in front of the man as he worked on a cross-stitch. "Yes, sir?"

"You're the first person he's ever talked to for that long, outside the family." Al said quietly, practically exuding happiness. "And he's never invited someone to visit before. He must've taken a likin' to you."

"Oh, er," Matthew mumbled, turning as red as the fabric that the man was working with. "I wouldn't say that-"

"Did you say or do something that might've made 'im hate you less?" Al asked, blunt and oblivious as to how awkwardly worded that question was.

"I have no idea," the prince murmured, shrugging. "He was yelling at me one moment, and sweet the next."

"I see.. Well, off with you, prince." Al smirked, heartily patting Matthew on the back, before returning to his work.

Unable to wipe the dopey smile from his face, Matthew wandered out of the tailory and started to head back in the direction of the castle. Oh, how cheery his thoughts were at the moment! However, as he stepped through the castle gate, his smile faded in a matter of seconds.

His father Francois stood in front of him, a guard to either of his sides. And he looked furious. Matthew seemed to shrink in his stead.

"And why do you look so happy?" the king asked, deep voice almost thunderous. "Your brother tells me of how you decided to enter the woods without any precaution or protection!"

Matthew bit his lip. Alright, now he was in trouble. He just prayed that Alfred didn't tell their father about-

"And you've been mixing with the common filth again! I have been informed that you wish to court just a peasant!"

Matthew flinched, inching backward a step. "I do not wish to court them," he murmured. That was a lie, but he couldn't tell the outright truth here.

"I believe in Alfred more than I believe in your word." Francois murmured, narrowing his bloodshot grey eyes. "You are not to go out without a guard by your side, and you are not to visit this tailor anymore."

He froze to the spot. No, no, no. He had only just broken the ice with Arthur! And he was so close to becoming a proper friend to the seemingly lonely boy; this seemed so unfair to him. He had no way of contact, and his brother and cousin were so painfully loyal to the king, they would never do a favour just for Matthew and pass on a message. "Yes, Father." He uttered, meek and not sure of what else he could possibly say.

Worried that he would cry out of fear or frustration if he stayed any longer, Matthew bit his lip and shuffled past his father, and up to his room. Damn it, this was not how it was supposed to go! His thoughts swarmed him, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling. Would Arthur think that he was trying to avoid him? Would he even be able to see the boy again in his lifetime?.. Alfred had always been a suck up, and he would probably continue his father's principles, even long after Francois himself had passed away.

_Princess_. The nickname that seemed still fresh off Arthur's tongue. It rang in Matthew's head, but the echoes were quickly replaced with his own name in Arthur's voice. He felt so utterly stupid for thinking of the boy in the first place. He felt so painfully idiotic for having a different mindset and expecting others to accept it. As he stared up at the ceiling and held back tears, Matthew reminded himself to punch his brother square in the face the next time that they crossed paths.


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur went to work on the dress that very evening. He had ended up giving his prior work to his brother, in return for not talking to him for five days. It seemed like a win-win situation, really. He stayed up late to work with the beautiful fabrics, using a delicate gold thread to sew anything that needed stitching. The gown itself was to be a regal blue, with bits of white and purple here and there, décor along the hem.

He half-expected the prince to visit on his first proper day of working. But he made no appearance, and Arthur admitted that he was a little disappointed. It was reasonable though; they had just talked yesterday. He thought that Matthew believed the dress would not even resemble what it was to be yet, and would wait. Arthur was confident in that.

The second day came, and Arthur's hard work did not falter. Again, Matthew failed to visit, but he let that go, repeating the same thing he told himself yesterday. As appalled as he was with himself for hoping the prince would show up, he still felt let down when he did not.

The third and fourth days passed, with Arthur growing sullen again. The prince surely had things to do. Fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth. After long days and even longer nights, the garment was finished, and Arthur took a moment to admire it. He was bothered that Matthew had not paid yet as promised, but assured himself that he would pay when he came to collect the gown.

Ninth, tenth, eleventh. Arthur asked his father if he had seen the prince at all, and even resorted to questioning his brothers. From what he found out, they had seen prince Alfred passing in the street, but that was not the answer he searched for. He announced that since prince Matthew didn't seem to be coming, Arthur would be delivering this piece, as bitter as he felt at this point.

He folded the dress gently, and put it in a small satchel, fearing thievery if he carried it as it was. Slinging the satchel's strap over his shoulder, he uttered farewell to his father, and started the short walk toward the castle. This was quite different to any previous order, as he never delivered. It was extra work on his part, work that he gained no benefit from. He was only delivering today to speak to the prince. Perhaps he would ask if the noble had grown bored of his company as quickly as in a day.

At the castle gate, he stated his business, expecting to be allowed access. He was refused, however, and he took a step back.

"Did you not hear me? I am one of the Kirkland tailors, here to deliver a piece for the prince." He grunted, opening his satchel slightly to show the guards.

"His majesty and company have already received their orders, and the guard has been informed not to let any of you Kirkland inside." One of them jeered, leaning forward with a brutish smirk. Arthur was confused, but dared not to argue with these men, clearly stronger and more powerful than he. His father had visited the castle on numerous occasions, to get specifications about material and design, so he figured that this rule had to be relatively new.

It wasn't as if he could just go home now, no, Arthur had something to do. He sat out of sight of the guards, just watching them and trying to think. Over an hour passed, and the guards picked up their weapons, and turned, heading inside. Arthur was completely puzzled at first, but imagined that it must have been a guard break or switch, and seized the opportunity. Racing and sticking to the wall, he slipped inside while no guards stood at the gate, and hid himself away in some bushes. This was stupid. Oh, it was so foolish. But he had started this, and his pride wouldn't allow him to give up.

When new guards came to the gate, he let out a quiet sigh of relief. As they were facing out towards the main of the city, and not the castle's courtyard, Arthur had the upper hand. He just had to be quiet. Allistor had taught him how to tread softly in the forest, but it was a little different here where so many people lived. Arthur thanked the lord that humans were not as sensitive to sound and scent as animals were. Using what his brother had taught, Arthur moved surreptitiously to the inside of the castle. He was in such trouble now.

He ducked away behind various décor to keep hidden, trying to locate the prince he searched for. Keeping the satchel tight to his hip, Arthur scurried about the castle when guards were looking the other way. Unable to take the pressure, he hurried into a room that he quickly saw was filled with books. In here, he hid himself behind a bookshelf, knees tucked tightly to his chest. Arthur's stomach was ill with anxiety, and he feared for his own safety. He was aware of the punishment for trespassing, and regretted having any sense of righteousness or bravery. This was ridiculous.

It never occurred to him just how long he stayed there, stowed away in his little hiding spot. There was the sound of the heavy wooden door opening and closing, and he heard a voice. It was a woman, and she certainly sounded foreign. He closed his eyes as if it would make her go away, and not find him.

Even through closed lids, he felt a shadow loom over him, and he timidly opened one eye.

"Hello there," the woman said quietly, hands on her knees as she leant down a touch. "Are you lost? Or a new servant here?" She asked, smiling faintly. By her state of dress, Arthur guessed that she was one of the castle servants. Her hair, short and ash blonde in a bun, seemed a little unkempt and unwashed. Arthur didn't dare to speak. "Not very talkative?.. That's alright. Here," she smiled, holding out one of her calloused hands. Arthur didn't take it, and continued to stare.

She pouted, and looked up in thought for a moment. She seemed to come to a solution, and smiled. "I will be back shortly," she hummed, leaving Arthur by himself. Right, he was done for. If the woman was getting a guard, they would surely recognize him as a Kirkland, and he would be in serious trouble. It was not hard to pick out his family from others, as they carried a distinct and bushy brow, something from his mother's side. That, and his brothers often got into trouble about the city.

He sat and waited, feeling ever so stupid for coming into the castle in the first place. As the door opened again; he heard two sets of footfall. Arthur curled up tighter, bracing for whatever punishment he was to be given.

"Where is this servant you mentioned?"

Arthur looked up in an instant, unable to believe his ears.

"He is just around here, my prince." That was the servant woman again, definitely.

Matthew stepped in front of him, eyes wide as plates as he saw who this supposed 'servant' was. "Arthur?" He asked quietly, very much surprised. "Arthur!"

Arthur scrabbled to his feet, tense. "Since you didn't pick it up, I came to the castle to give you the dress but the guards wouldn't let me in for some reason-" He stammered, trying to explain himself.

"I'll explain.. Heavens, I'm sorry that I didn't visit, Arthur," the prince murmured, fiddling with his hands. "But first thing's first, I'll get the money for you," he said quickly, turning to leave the room. He paused, though. "Oh, and Arthur, you can go ahead and give it to Katyusha." Then, he left.

Katyusha.. Arthur remembered Matthew's story about making a servant girl happy, and he hit himself for not connecting the servant woman here to the one Matthew had mentioned. He stumbled out from behind the bookcase, and towards Katyusha, who had taken a seat at the library's table. Smiling weakly, he reached into his satchel, and extracted the dress.

"The prince had me make this for you," he stated quietly, handing over the garment and watching as the woman's face lit up. Looking as if she was about to cry, Katyusha took the garment from Arthur and looked at it for a moment, before hugging it to her chest.

"It is so beautiful," she cooed quietly, a shaky smile on her lips. "It is not suited for a servant like me, however.."

"A dress's beauty does not differ depending on the beauty of the wearer," Arthur stated quickly, afraid he was going to ramble on about dresses if allowed the chance.

Katyusha smiled – although she didn't know whether Arthur had spoken a compliment or condemnation - and let out a quiet sigh. Matthew returned to the room with a small coin purse in his hand, which he handed over to Arthur. He stowed it away in his satchel, too worried about being in the castle to bother checking all the coin was there.

"Do you like it, Katyusha?" the prince asked with a little smile, standing beside Arthur now. "You may try it on if you wish." She nodded quickly as an answer to both questions. "I need to speak with Arthur in private, though, so we will head to my room. All I ask is that you allow no-one else in, not even my brother." Katyusha dipped her head once more, and Matthew took Arthur by the hand.

They left the library, heading ever so speedily to Matthew's room.

"What's going on exactly?.." Arthur asked as the prince closed the door behind them. He made no effort to tear his hand away from Matthew's.

"Too much, " Matthew answered quietly, a little ill at the subject. "My father no longer lets me out by myself, and I am practically forbidden from seeing you," He uttered.

"What?.." he murmured, brow creasing in confusion. "Why on earth would he decree something like that?" He stammered. His voice raised with every word he spoke.

Matthew, frightened, explained his situation with meek works and vague gestures. Arthur only seemed to grow more enraged.

"That's a damned stupid reason! And on top of that, you're not even courting me! What the hell-" He shouted, kicking Matthew's bed in frustration. "I hate royals, and this is just another bloody reason!"

"Please, Arthur, I understand your anger, but you need to calm down-" Matthew whispered, biting his lip. "If you're so loud, the guards will burst right in here!"

Arthur, still fuming, zipped his lips, but clenched his hands into tight fists. "Never in a million years did I think that this would be an issue," he spat. Matthew squeezed Arthur's hand that was still in his own.

"I want to talk to you and be a friend to you, but I don't know if that's possible from now on," Matthew conceded weakly. Quickly and suddenly, Arthur embraced him.

"You're a kind prince, Matthew," Arthur mumbled against the prince's shoulder. Matthew couldn't sense it, but Arthur had began to tremble. "A proper diamond."

"I-.." Matthew sighed, cheeks reddening as his arms slowly draped around Arthur's back.

"You're the only person who talks to me," he said quietly. "Thanks for being a friend to me, Matthew."

Matthew felt that this was turning into a goodbye from Arthur, and his heart tightened in his chest.

"I think, perhaps, I could keep talking to you if I am able to sneak in," he mumbled, although the notion frightened him.

"There's a little passageway that only Alfred and I know about," Matthew breathed. "Well, you know about it now,"

"Sorry," Arthur mumbled, letting go of Matthew and shuffling backward. "But that sounds feasible.."

"Being stuck up in the castle doesn't give me time to make many friends," Matthew admitted softly. "Most people are too afraid of my position to make the effort. I appreciate you, Arthur." The tailor boy smiled slightly, and glanced away.

"I should most probably go, before I get caught here with you." He uttered softly, dipping his head. "One thing, you owe a little more coin, because I used gold thread for the stitches and hem," Arthur chuckled.

"I haven't got any gold on me," Matthew sighed. "And I can't exactly leave this room and leave you here, nor can I take you with me. I do have another form of payment for you, though," he chuckled.

"Oh? We take no payments other than gold," Arthur mused, raising a brow.

"A shame," Matthew murmured, getting too embarrassed to go through with his idea. "I think if I was to extend a knotted rope down one of the castle walls, you would be able to climb down that way."

"A stroke of genius," Arthur retorted quietly, hesitantly and slow in his movements. "Perhaps not until dusk, though.. I wish to be a proper friend to you for the afternoon." He said, nodding his head. "I take back how frozen I was toward you at first, princess." Arthur laughed quietly, a bit of his normal self quickly poking through his gentle mood. He would admit that Matthew was making him soft.

"And again I thank you for your apology," Matthew whispered. "Thank you ever so much for making that beautiful gown for Katyusha, too." He cheered.

The two, despite their different worlds, spent the afternoon lazing about and just talking. They talked over everything and nothing, about their homes and stories, and they both knew that they were growing closer toward the other. Smiles bruised their lips often, and chuckles passed their lips regularly. At one point, Arthur began to tell the story of his amulet, to which Matthew listened intently.

It was mid-recount that the door to Matthew's room was forced open, and a small group of guards bustled through the entrance. Confused and scared, the boys shuffled up to a seated position, but Arthur was already on his feet.

"Seize the tailor!" One of them commanded, pointing to Arthur with a single fat finger.

Matthew figured in seconds that Alfred must have heard some of their chatter, and passed the news onto his father. Damn it, this was all going wrong!.. Matthew let out a distressed cry as they both lurched towards his dear tailor, with the boy in question stumbling backward. Arthur's feet became heavy. The guards stormed after him, but Arthur just forced himself to run out to the balcony of the room.

"Arthur!" Matthew squeaked, frozen with fear.

Arthur shoved open the door, charging along the balcony and freezing when he ran out of balcony to flee out on. He turned, terrified as the guards continued to approach. He passed a glance to Matthew, and gave a weak smile. Terrified and unable to comprehend his situation, Arthur stepped back onto the ledge of the castle wall, turning to face the afternoon horizon. He would be hung or at least beaten if he was caught, surely. And so, he fell.


	4. Chapter 4

The pain was the first thing he registered. Arthur had landed awfully, jarring his shoulder and most probably breaking his arm. He lay there, unable to move, eyes closed. He wasn't sure how long he stayed still, but it was quite a long time. He prayed that his family would find him, but doubted it. He was at the other side of the enormous castle boundary, the side that didn't connect to the city. In fact, he was pretty sure that he'd struck a tree or two in the way down. Was this the woods? Limbs and back aching, Arthur faded into unconsciousness, just as the rain started to fall.

"Look what we have here, Yao." A voice roused Arthur from his pain-induced slumber. It was foreign, and the pronunciation was a little odd. Arthur blinked his eyes open, and almost jumped at the sight of two men staring down at him.

"He's alive after all," the other man stated with a faint smile. "You got a name?"

The first man was tall to the point that he could be considered gargantuan, with pale flaxen hair. His eyes were similar to Matthew's, although a considerably darker shade. The second hand seemed to be the complete opposite of his companion; he was small with dark hair tied back in a ponytail.

"Arthur.." he mumbled. He tried to push himself up, but the jarring pain in his right arm made him gasp. "My name is Arthur."

"You from the city? Or were you trying to flee the castle?" Interrogated the man referred to as Yao.

"You're pretty foolish if that was your attempt of escape," The first laughed, leaning down and picking Arthur up with surprising ease.

He went to protest about being lifted, but realized that he probably wouldn't be able to stand up by himself. He stayed quiet, admittedly frightened by these strangers.

"We don't bite, little Arthur," Yao sneered, tapping his companion's shoulder to tell him to follow as he turned.

These were certainly the woods; trees and foliage everywhere, excepting the side barriered with the castle wall. He only let them carry him because he was in too much pain to concentrate on moving, and he was soaking from the rain. He shivered in the man's arms.

After a little while of travel, Arthur felt the pitter-patter of rain on his face cease, and he blinked his eyes open again. He was under some kind of canvas now, and the blond man set him down. Yao was absent, and it took Arthur a moment to look about and see him starting a fire.

"Still not going to talk, sleepyhead?" Yao called as he blew some smoking tinder.

"I, er," Arthur stammered. "I'm not a castle servant.." he started, but grew quiet quickly after. It was easy to remember why he had leapt from the balcony in the first place, as much as he regretted it. His thoughts now were of work; how would he do so properly with these injuries? It took him a moment to ask himself if he would even be able to go back with those guards knowing his face and family. God, he hated royals.

"I get it, if we want more on you, you get something on us," Yao shrugged, glancing to his companion and beckoning him to come over and sit by the fire as well. "My name's Yao. All the way from China. This is Ivan." He introduced, pointing to the bulky man now beside him. Slowly and cautiously sitting up, Arthur shuffled closer to the crackling fire. Interesting, this man was foreign as well. He was bitter for now; even though he should've been grateful for his rescuers, he would rather not have to converse.

"We're peddlers, stopping into this city for but a few days." Ivan explained with a smile, dipping his head. "He _acquires_ jewels, and I sell them. There's good business around the castle market." Yao began to laugh at Ivan's use of the term 'acquired'. Arthur got the implication that these jewels were stolen. For now, he kept his silence, and warmed himself in the flickering glow of the fire.

"I don't think he wants to talk," Yao whined quietly, looking to Ivan and tugging at his companion's shoulder. "What do we do?"

"Arthur," Ivan addressed him, and he opened his eyes accordingly. "I suggest that you comply to our wishes," he uttered, voice growing quieter. "You're at our mercy. Don't even consider running."

Arthur flinched. "Sorry," he said quickly, bowing his head. As much as he hated to admit it, this Ivan was intimidating. "I work at my father's tailory." Occupations were the obvious thing to share; showing status was important about the city. "Kirkland."

"Ooh, _Kirkland_!" Yao cooed, eyes widening. "I've heard of your family."

"Well, the castle has something against me at the moment." Arthur grumbled, rubbing his broken arm. "I was with the prince when the guards found me, and I had to run." He explained quietly.

"And so you leapt from the castle wall?" chuckled Yao. "Even more curious, you were with the prince?"

"I had nowhere else to run," Arthur protested, grimacing at the smiling man. "And yes. Prince Matthew is my.. my friend." Ivan actually started to laugh. If Arthur's good arm hadn't been broken, he would've punched the peddler right in the face, had he the courage.

"What? What is it that you find so amusing?!" He exclaimed, slamming his left fist against his knee in frustration.

"The royal family do not have '_friends_'. Mister Arthur, you must have been mislead." chided Ivan, sneering as he stared down into the fire. "They have allies, enemies, people to take advantage of, and people to take away from their homes. That is all."

"No, that's not true at all-" Arthur argued, although he faltered in how convincing he sounded. He didn't know for sure. For all he knew, he was just being used as a way of getting cheaper clothes. Arthur was easily influenced, and a tiny bit of doubt began to grow inside of him.

"It is true," uttered Ivan, resting his hands in his lap. "Each and every one of them, users and takers." He mumbled, starting to noticeably tremble. Yao's arms were quick around him, and he kissed Ivan's cheek. Words of quiet comfort were whispered against the man's scarf.

"I don't think that's the case for all of them." Arthur murmured, although it was more to himself at this point. "I really need to be getting home, so if you don't mind," he mumbled, slowly getting to his feet.

"It's pouring down," Yao commented quietly. "You're busted up from the fall, and your clothes aren't even dry yet. My bet is that you don't even know where you are."

"I can make my way home," grunted Arthur.

Yao sneered, tsking. "And what if the city guards pick you out? Are you going to jump off another castle wall?"

"Very funny," he puffed. "I'll avoid them and just get to the tailory."

"Like that'll work," Ivan sighed, leaning his head now against his companion's chest. "Just stay the night here. Yao can spare his bedroll for one evening."

"I couldn't possibly be more of a burden to you," Arthur negated, shaking his head quickly. "I'll be fine."

"We'll get you back in the morning." Ivan's words were firm, and he looked to Arthur with dark eyes.

"We're on the way to the market tomorrow anyway, Arthur. Sit back down." Yao bargained.

Although grudgingly, he sat again, staring into the flames with creased brows. Despite his protest, he knew that he probably wouldn't make it around the castle wall, especially with his injury and the heavy rain. He didn't trust these peddlers entirely, but they were probably his best hope. As the companions finished warming up, Yao offered his bedroll to Arthur; he was sharing one with Ivan instead of having his own. It was uncomfortable and he was still cold, but he dared not complain. As he tried to get to sleep, his thoughts drifted to the prince.

Did Matthew think him dead? On that matter, could he even call that boy his friend? He had never had a proper friend before, so he had no way of knowing for sure. Was he just being used? Perhaps the guards found him with a little help. He had no way of knowing! It made him sick to think about. That hour of talking and laying beside Matthew, surely that meant something?

He didn't even notice that he fell asleep, but awoke the next morning nonetheless. He sat up with a shiver, the crisp morning air biting into him.

"He's awake," Ivan commented from behind, causing Arthur to jolt in surprise.

"Don't look so scared, Arthur," Yao chimed in, walking past and patting his shoulder as he did so. "He's big, but he's got a bigger heart."

"No, I just didn't see him there," Arthur muttered. He yawned and patted down his fluffed hair, before getting to his feet.

"We're to be leaving in a few minutes," Yao stated. He had obviously gotten up quite early compared to Arthur. "We considered leaving without you if you didn't wake up."

Arthur sneered. "How kind of you."

They traveled together in what was mostly bustling conversation. The peddlers seemed to enjoy telling Arthur about the places in the woods they passed, where some tasty berries were, and just how many rabbits passed by a certain spot. He kept his head down as they passed the city gates. By this point, his legs hurt from the long walk, and he guessed it was just before midday. He didn't allow his thoughts to get to him for now.

* * *

Matthew hadn't slept last night. Worry wracked his brain, and dread hung over him like a storm cloud. He wasn't even sure if one of the few friends he had was still alive, and it ate away at him. Breakfast was unpleasant, as his father only scolded him for apparently smuggling the tailor boy into the castle. Even worse, he threatened to have the boy punished for trespassing.

He spent the morning in the library with Katyusha, putting on a smile and pretending that he wasn't worried for Arthur's well-being to the point of anxiety.

"My prince, you seem unsettled," Katyusha mumbled as she sat down beside him at the library table.

"That's because I am." He sighed, leaning his cheek in one hand. "I fear for Arthur, for his life, Katyusha."

He grew quiet in an instant, as the weak-willed Katyusha began to snivel.

"I am so sorry, the guards shoved me aside! I could do nothing to resist," she whimpered, hiding her face in her hands. "They had orders, and I am nothing against royal command.. It's all my fault!"

"Katyusha, don't blame yourself, please," Matthew sighed, curling one arm around her shoulders. "Do you know who gave the guards those orders?.." She shakily returned her hands to her lap, and looked away with puffy eyes.

"Do you?" he echoed, furrowing his brow.

"Matthew, I don't think I should tell you-"

"This is an order, as much as I hate to give you such a thing." the prince interrupted, biting his lip.

"Your brother, Alfred-" Katyusha squeaked. Matthew became furious.

"What?! Are you seriously telling me that my brother called the guards on me?!" He barked, retracting his arm and standing up in an instant.

"Y-yes.." she mumbled, shielding herself as if Matthew would hit her in his anger. He was usually so docile and passive, so this anger was completely alien and terrifying.

"Then I will be back."

He stormed out of the library, anger fueling every step towards the garden where Alfred was. Matthew felt his inner fire burn brighter as he spotted his brother looking out over the garden's balcony and down to the city. Trying not to stomp, Matthew charged towards the other prince. Alfred turned with a little smile. That smile quickly turned to a frown, however, as Matthew's fist made a clumsy beeline for his face.

"Son of a bitch!" Matthew exclaimed, taking some kind of joy in watching Alfred stumble back and raise a brow in confusion.

"What the hell, Matthew? Also, we have the same mother, so you're calling yourself a son of a bitch too-"

"How could you do that to me?!" he shouted, shoulders hunched.

Alfred got back up so he was standing properly, and he tilted his head. "What're you talking about, angry?" he puffed, crossing his arms. How calm he stayed, oh how it irritated Matthew even more.

"The guards yesterday! Did you or did you not call them saying Arthur was in my room with me?" He spat, venom laced in every word.

"Oh, that," Alfred chuckled. Oh, the gall he had to be _laughing_ right now. "Yeah, I did."

"You asshole!" Matthew squeaked indignantly, trying to swing at his brother again.

Alfred dodged with ease, being the more athletic of the two. "I did you a favour!"

"A favour?! Arthur might be dead because of you!" He yelped, voice cracking on those words.

"The old man was going to get aggressive if you didn't let go of that filthy peasant!" Alfred protested, giving his brother a shove to try and knock some sense into him. "Also, he's a _filthy peasant_! You could get anyone you wanted, and you choose a damned _tailor_? No-one's even going to miss him! He's a speck of dust compared to us!" Alfred grunted, unfazed act dropping. "You have the power of a prince, and yet you choose not to use it! Damnit, stop being afraid of what you have the potential to do!"

"I-" Matthew stammered, rendered speechless by Alfred's words.

"You don't even deserve to be a goddamn prince!" Alfred snarled, turning his back sharply and staring down at the city with maddened eyes. "You don't understand what the position's about." Matthew bit his lip, and just looked to his brother. His anger had faded away, replaced with fear and doubt. If being a prince meant growing into a selfish and snobby man filled with arrogance and hatred toward everyone beneath him, he wished no longer to be one.

"Goodbye, Alfred," he mumbled, rubbing his arm and turning. He walked away, not waiting for a reply.


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur was practically run over by his father as he pushed open the door to the tailory. Yao and Ivan had dropped him off, and were then making their way to an inn to pay for their stay there. After doing that, they would be heading to the market square.

"Arthur! Thank god you're alright!" his father exclaimed, aggressively bear-hugging his son against the ground. "You didn't come home last night, and some castle guards came here lookin' for you!"

"Sorry," he sighed, not even trying to get up. "But please, off my arm.." he cringed. "It hurts."

Al quickly got to his feet, and helped Arthur do the same.

"Jesus, boy," he murmured, gently touching at Arthur's right shoulder. "How'd you break your arm?" Arthur moved the limb gingerly, trying to avoid too much pain when he did so.

"Jumped off a castle wall," he answered as if it was obvious, eager to go inside. They were already starting to draw attention, especially thanks to his father's loud voice. "I can talk more inside."

They shuffled inside and Arthur was sat down in the kitchen, being poked at and prodded by his brothers and sister – it was some kind of interrogation. His father sat across from him at the table, and waited for Arthur to explain.

"It's the prince," he murmured, rubbing his sore limb. "Getting involved with him is causing all kind of trouble.. I went to deliver the dress, and I wasn't allowed in.." he trailed off, pausing for a little bit before continuing. As he told the rest of his tale, he found his good hand fiddling with the amulet around his neck; a nervous habit.

Al was grim by the time Arthur had finished his mutterings, and patted his son on the back.

"It's probably best that you lay low, kid," he puffed, getting to his feet again. "Besides, you can't work until your arm's not so banged up." With that said, he turned and exited the room.

* * *

He was sick. Sick of the castle, sick of his brother and father, sick of hierarchy. Was it so much to ask to have a society where everyone was equal? Matthew inwardly laughed to himself. Of course it was. He was a dreamer through and through. He had returned to his room, unpursued by his brother. That was something to be thankful for, at least. He had said his goodbyes, and he meant it. There was one last person he needed to speak to before he took his leave.

"Katyusha." he greeted, dipping his head to the servant in front of him.

"My prince," she returned, to which he bore a little scowl. There was a reminder that he was something expected to be foul and heartless.

"Please, it's just Matthew." He sighed. "Katyusha, I need you to get me something. Rope. There should be some down near the stables."

"Rope?" she repeated, tilting her head. "Why do you have need for such a thing?"

"I'm leaving." He stated bluntly. His eyes were far separate from hers; contact would make him seem doubtful. "I need it to get down the wall with." Katyusha seemed to choke on air.

"What?!" she wheezed, shocked. "You're leaving?"

He simply bowed his head. "I am to leave this afternoon. My mind has been made up, I'm afraid."

"But why?" Katyusha stammered, threatening to cry once more. "Where will you go?"

"I'm not suited for what I am. I leave that to my brother." He sighed, bowing his head. "I will go where I'm wanted. And I will miss you greatly."

Katyusha held in tears with a weak smile, nodding and shuffling off before she could burst out crying. Matthew idled in his room for the few minutes it took for her to return. She had clearly been crying, but had wiped her tears for now. Hesitant, she handed over the rough length of rope.

"Is there nothing I can do to get you to stay?" she uttered quietly. She of course knew that she wouldn't be able to change his mind regardless of what she tried.

"I'm afraid not." Matthew sighed, taking the rope and weighing it in his hands. "Please, tell no-one that I've gone."

"I won't tell a soul," Katyusha whispered, meekly dipping her head. "My prince, I-"

Matthew cut her off. His arms curled around her back in a tight embrace, and tears began to fall. "I'll miss you, Katyusha. You've been a good friend."

"Matthew-" she sniveled, squeezing him back. "Thank you so much for everything you've done for me!"

"It's nothing a friend wouldn't do." Matthew replied quietly.

* * *

By now it was late afternoon, and Arthur idled in the kitchen, trying to read an old book his brother had let him borrow. Allistor had helped him put his arm into a sling, which was a great relief from the pain. There was a hurried knock on the front door, and Arthur glanced up. Through the kitchen's door, he could see through into the storefront, and he froze in disorientation.

He had stood up on instinct; he then hurried out of the kitchen.

"Matthew, what're you-" he started, staring at the prince at his door. It was now that Matthew began to cry.

"Take him inside, boy," Al ordered quietly, closing the door after Matthew had bumbled in. "Hurry up." Arthur dared not to disobey.

Arthur ushered Matthew to the kitchen, sitting the boy down and trying not to fret.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a rush, fiddling with anything and everything about the kitchen. "It's not safe-"

"You're alive.." Matthew cried quietly, a tiny smile gracing his lips. "I didn't expect to see you here.."

"Right, that, yes," huffed Arthur, glancing away. "Anyway, that's not important; are you alright? Why did you come here?"

"I'm okay." Matthew murmured, putting his hands in his lap. "I came here to see if you were okay, and it makes my heart soar to see that you are."

"Mm, well, I did end up with a broken arm," he mused, showing the boy his sling. "But I'm alive. I've had worse injuries."

"I'm leaving the castle, Arthur." the prince stated, wiping his eyes. "I can't stand it anymore. Nobles are as disgusting as you say."

"You're kidding, princess." Arthur mocked, tilting his head. "Don't make fun of me and my hatred."

"I do not jest," Matthew replied, pouting. "My own father forbids me from seeing a friend, tells me you're dangerous and filthy, and my brother tries to have you killed." He uttered. Arthur grew silent, and glanced down as well.

"And so, I am paying you a visit before I leave this city." Matthew concluded, flicking an errant curl from his face. There was a moment of silence, of thought, before Arthur spoke up.

"Where do you intend to go?" he asked, apprehensive.

Matthew shrugged. "I'll go wherever the road takes me, I guess."

"Are you going alone?" Arthur queried, growing more nervous with every passing syllable. Just as Matthew opened his mouth, he cut in. "Because you shouldn't. It's too dangerous for a prince like you."

"I-.. I'll learn, I'm not as weak as you might think I am-" the prince stammered defensively. Again, Arthur interjected.

"That's not what I meant, you fool."

"Then what did you mean-"

"How about I come with you?" Arthur huffed, bearing an indignant scowl as he stared to the ground. "I at least know how to fire an arrow, and I have some friends we can travel with who know more about going places than you and I combined." He argued.

"Arthur, I-.. You want to join me?.. O-of course, but what of your family-"

"I can't work in this state, and my stitch will always be second-rate to my father's and brothers' anyway." Arthur mumbled, words tart and biting. "Also, guards are trying to find me because of what the King thinks of my position. I'm not safe here."

"Arthur, I'm so sorry." Matthew sighed, glancing away. "But are you serious in your suggestion? Being alone on the road is quite undesirable.."

"I'll have to speak to my father," Arthur said quietly, patting the prince's shoulder as he stood and left the room. Matthew waited in the kitchen, thoughts buzzing about like a swarm of insects. Did he really even know what he was doing, running away from home like this? No, and he didn't want to call it home anymore. Being free was all that mattered.

Arthur returned, and Matthew looked to him in search of an answer. Much to his relief, Arthur nodded.

"He says I should make my own tracks instead of following the trail, says I should go on an adventure." Arthur laughed softly, rubbing his sore arm. "My father is a kind man, if a little eccentric."

"What a nice thing to say," Matthew hummed softly, getting to his feet. "I don't believe we should stay here long; I think a guard saw me on my way here."

"You managed to sneak out, did you?" Arthur mused. "My friends are staying at an inn a little ways from here. I don't know them too well, so I don't know if traveling with them is even possible. We'll see." With that, he beckoned for Matthew to follow as he shuffled about to the storefront once more. "I have nothing worth taking with me. My bow is still out at the clearing; not that I'd be able to shoot for a while. Perhaps I could teach you."

They bid a teary farewell to Arthur's father, with Al getting all worked up, crying and the like. There were words about 'his little boy' and 'a journey true of a real man', but Arthur shook them off and just gave his father an embrace. His brothers and sister soon joined him. The family's little moment was ruined as there was heavy knocking on the door. Guards. Arthur broke out of the hug, and turned toward Matthew. As he took a step forward, Allistor punched him gently on the back.

"Try not to break a leg as well out there, ye' runt."

With no more words or smiles to give, Arthur and Matthew quickly made their way to the back of the tailory. Arthur helped the prince out of the back window. Hands together and fingers interlaced, the two ran along the backstreets until they reached the inn. They stopped behind the building, laughing and panting, unable to catch their breath.

"I can't believe this," Arthur wheezed, putting his left arm around his companion and leaning on him. "Here I was thinking my life would be mediocre forever."

"I feel so much better already, freed from the shackles of my royal blood." Matthew sighed, smiling to himself. Arthur's smile dwindled.

"You know, I'm not as much of a common citizen as one would think.." he mumbled, wiping his brow free of sweat.

"You are pretty amazing," Matthew complimented with a little smile. "One in a million, right?"

"Not what I meant." Arthur puffed. "My mother, she.. was a noble from the next city. She ended up staying here; she liked this city more. I'm an illicit child, Matthew." He admitted. It was the first time that he'd talked to someone, to anyone, about this. "You were right when you thought a tailor didn't belong with something such as this." He laughed bitterly, untucking the amulet from the front of his shirt.

"Arthur, we.. we can sort this later.. Even if you have royal blood in you, it doesn't mean you're like them." Matthew mumbled. "Come on, tell me about these friends of yours."

Arthur decided to let the matter go for now. He wished he hadn't said anything. "I say 'friends', but I'm not really sure what relation we have. Names are Ivan, and Yao. They're the ones that helped me after I dropped from the wall."

"They sound nice; they have to be good people if they saved you." Matthew nodded. "Shall we go and find them?"

"They're frightening, honestly." he scoffed, standing up properly and starting to amble towards the inn door. "And yes, we shall."

The pair stepped into the inn to find a brawl taking place. There was yelling and a mass of probably-drunkards clumping together within the fray. They just stared for a moment, before something – someone – caught Arthur's eye. In the middle of the mob was Yao, yelling obscenities about British women and Russian men. Only a moment later, Ivan rushed down the stairs, and practically threw everyone in the brawl off of his companion.

"Please tell me they aren't the ones in the middle of this.." Matthew mumbled.

"I'm sorry, I won't." Arthur scoffed. This was odd to see, but amusing nonetheless. As the people about the inn – or perhaps it was more of a tavern, considering the afternoon drunkards – parted, Ivan helped Yao to his feet. Arthur led Matthew towards the pair in turn.

"Hello again," he greeted, unsure of just how well this was going to go.

"Arthur! Little sleepy Arthur!" Yao cheered, bursting out of Ivan's hold to go and pat the boy on the shoulder. "You did it, you survived!"

"Brilliant," Arthur murmured, glancing to the prince. "But I need to talk to you about something-"

"Greetings. Yao's one drink away from one too many," Ivan explained quietly, pulling back his companion. "He's either a feisty or sleepy drunk, I can't tell. Anyway, you have something to ask?"

"The prince-"

"Just Matthew, please,"

"Matthew and I wish to travel with you." Arthur corrected himself.

Yao just looked at them for a moment, before bursting out in a fit of chuckles. "You two? Miss Delicate Royal and the wall-jumper?" He scoffed, cheery under the influence of mead. "How do you expect to pay for lodging? I'm not paying for you, my money is mine!"

"It's ours, Yao, we've been over this," chided Ivan, patting the man's hair gently. "But do you two seriously wish to travel with us? I'm not sure that'd be such a great idea.."

"There's a whole trove of gemstones within the castle; I can tell you where it is!" Matthew offered, pouting.

"What's the point? They're just some damned stones that someone found and sold to you! There's no fun in shallow taking." Yao sneered, slumping against Ivan. "That's not the kind of value I care for." Ivan gave him a look as if to say '_but you sure do love the money, don't you?_'. Arthur bit his lip, and reached to the back of his neck. In a single movement, he lifted the amulet from his neck, and held it out gingerly to Yao.

"What about this?" He asked, clearly hesitant in every way. "It was my mother's, and I've had it since I was just a child." Arthur murmured. "It's got real sapphires."

Matthew's eyes widened in alarm. "You needn't give that up, Arthur, we can tr-"

"I know what I'm doing." Arthur muttered, although that was an awful lie. "How much is it worth to you?"

Yao's eyes seemed to light up as soon as they fell to the jewelry. "The sapphires alone are in great shape.. It's beautiful.." he cooed, not even noticing as Ivan kicked away someone intent on starting the brawl again. Awestruck, he reached out to touch at the amulet, to take it into his hands. "And by the way you hold it, I can see sentimentality.." Here, he paused to hiccup. "I'll give you plenty for it." Yao went to close his hands around the amulet, and Arthur just lifted it so that he could not.

"It'll be payment for letting Matthew and I travel with you. Do we have a deal?" Arthur said quickly, trying to appear firm despite his wavering doubt. Yao turned and looked to Ivan with puppy-dog eyes.

"Please, Ivan? Pretty please~? I haven't seen sapphires that great since that one time I stole-"

"It's a deal." Ivan interrupted so that Yao wouldn't say something too revealing. "We're to set off tomorrow. You'll get no coin in hand, though. Traveling with a prince could be quite troublesome, so Yao and I will be taking all what this is worth."

Grinning like a child, Yao grabbed at the amulet, and held it close to his chest. Arthur felt heartache at the loss of something so important to him, but assured himself that it was for a good cause. It had only been given to him as something to sell in the first place, right? Arthur found Matthew's hand in his own, and smiled weakly. Looks like they were setting off tomorrow.

Ivan had agreed to let the new companions stay in the room they'd rented, albeit only for the evening. They slept beside one another, with Arthur snuggling up to his friend as they dreamed. Yao awoke complaining about a headache, and Ivan laughed quietly.

Arthur blinked open his eyes at the sound of voices. He was honestly quite surprised to find Matthew's arms around him, and allowed himself a moment to try and work out what to do. Fretting and already fearing that his decision was the wrong one, he leant forward, and rested his forehead against the slumbering prince's. He had really gotten the wrong impression about Matthew; he was so unlike anyone he'd ever met before. Refined and passive, although he had a blaze inside when he needed it. Even better, their ideals had become quite similar, and they really began to understand each other.

"Get up, lovebirds," Yao grumbled, one hand to his throbbing head, and the other to his hip. "We're going. You're going to have to get used to rising early from now on, the both of you."

"We aren't lovebirds," protested Arthur with a little squeak. This motion seemed to wake Matthew, as he blinked open his eyes and gave a soft smile at the sight of his blushing companion. "But fine, whatever!" As he waited for the newbies to ready themselves, Yao went over to bother Ivan about one thing or another.

"Morning," yawned Matthew, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "I don't think guards were smart enough to look in someone else's inn room," he sighed with relief. "Oh, Arthur, look at you," he snickered.

"What?.." Arthur grumbled, definitely not a morning person. "Something funny?

"Hilarious," the prince chuckled, reaching one hand over and tousling Arthur's incredible bedhair.

Arthur mumbled various curses and swatted the prince's hand away. "I can't help it. It's a curse." He yawned, before getting to his feet and stretching. "Are you ready to set off today? Not scared?"

"Nope, and nope," Matthew joked, rising to his feet and returning the blanket they'd borrowed to the inn room's bed.

"Of course, princes-.. Matthew." Arthur smirked, making a quick save. "We should toddle off, then."

After Yao and Ivan had packed up their things, the four headed out toward the castle gate. They were stopped by a guard, and anxieties grew alongside tensions.

"Halt," the guard stated quickly. "Is that not the prince Matthew?" He asked a little more firmly, raising his sword to point to said prince.

"No, I'm afraid not." Ivan answered quickly, shaking his head. "This is my brother, Nikolaus." He lied, giving a little smile and putting a large hand on Matthew's shoulder. "You can't see the resemblance?" Arthur wouldn't blame anyone for confusing the two as brothers; they were both tall, blond, and with odd violet eyes.

The guard glimpsed between the two, and admitted defeat with a shrug. "My mistake. Carry on." Sighing with relief, the group started down the path.

"Brother Nikolaus," laughed Yao, giving his companion a nudge. "Wow, good one."

"Perhaps I will come to love him like a brother," Ivan retorted, although he wasn't paying too much attention to the prince right now. "You know how much I love my dear sisters." Eager to rejoin the conversation, Matthew chimed in. "Sisters? Tell me about them! I have one brother as you would know, but he's actually awful."

Arthur walked behind the three, hands in his pockets as he just listened. He had nothing to add for now, and instead of talking, just let the conversation play out.

"Prince Alfred, no?" Ivan muttered, expression sour at the name. "I've heard of his doings. I feel inclined to hit him."

"Then we understand each other," joked Matthew, shrugging. "Sisters?"

"Watch your ground, prince," Yao mumbled, worried about going into this subject.

Ivan gave a meek shrug of _it's fine_, and began to speak. "I have an older sister, and a younger sister, both a little odd. The younger one is Natalya, but I have lost her location among the many towns we have visited."

"And what of the older?" Matthew asked with a little smile. To his surprise, Ivan did not answer. Instead, he began to walk a little faster than the rest of them. Before Matthew made the mistake of asking any more, Yao interjected.

"She left one night to make money in a place far away. She never said why. That was just over two years ago." He stated softly, taking hold of Ivan's shoulder to slow him down. "Her name was Katyusha. You'd best not ask any questions."

"Katyusha? No way," Matthew wheezed, eyes wide. "I know Katyusha, she's a servant at the castle!" Ivan turned and stared him dead in the eye. "Y-yeah, she's a dear friend of mine-.."

"Is she okay? Has she been looking after herself?.." Ivan asked quickly, voice meek and just above a whisper.

"Yes, and she has. She told me she was saving up for her siblings, but nothing other on the topic."

Ivan took a deep breath and sighed in relief, falling back into pace with Yao. In turn, Matthew stepped back to be walking beside Arthur.

"We're not turning back." Ivan stated, hand finding Yao's and squeezing it softly as they walked. "Just knowing that she's okay is enough." After their little banter, Arthur called for a detour, and they stopped by the clearing. He gathered up his bow and quiver, slinging them over his shoulder although he couldn't use them just yet.

Night fell, and the weary travelers set up camp. Yao, extra tired due to his drinking yesterday, had fallen asleep against Ivan as they sat about the fire. The Russian had pet his companion's head and retired he and Yao to their bedrolls. He had, of course, given Arthur and Matthew the rundown on how to look after the fire, and told them to put out the fire when they were tired enough to sleep. It was a nice kind of trust that had been built between the four of them.

"We're truly free now, aren't we?" Arthur asked quietly, eyes glued to the licking flames in front of him.

"It's nice." Matthew uttered with a smile. "We can be who we want now, instead of what we were born into being," he chuckled.

"I'm still to call myself a tailor," Arthur smirked, leaning over and giving Matthew a gentle nudge. "Since you're no longer a princess, are you just a diamond now?"

"If you think I am," he conceded, shrugging.

"You know, you still owe me." Arthur stated with a little yawn.

"Hm? What for?" Matthew puffed, crossing his arms. "You know I have no coin on me, nor do I have anything to sell to Ivan or Yao."

"For the golden thread in Katyusha's dress, obviously." he retorted, sticking out his tongue. "You said you would pay me when we were in the castle, but you paid no extra. A tailor doesn't forget so easily, Matthew."

"Oh," mumbled Matthew, cheeks reddening as he thought back to that little conversation. Surely he could follow through this time. "Can I give you something other than gold?" He asked meekly.

"We take no payments other than gold," stated Arthur, raising a brow. "But try me."

Hesitantly, and with cowardice haunting his every movement, Matthew leaned in. His lips just ghosted Arthur's, lingering for a mere second before he pulled back and stared to the fire once again. Arthur, surprised, lifted a finger to touch at his lips, looking rather dazed. "All of your debts are paid for," he mumbled quietly, nodding.

"Thank you." Matthew sighed softly. "I'd hate to have a debt hanging over my head."

They didn't speak again that evening, as the tired Matthew fell asleep soon after their conversation, resting his head against Arthur's shoulder. As the prince – no, he was no longer of such a status – slept, Arthur gently pressed his lips against the boy's forehead.

Arthur opened his mouth to elicit only a whisper. "Funny, we've run away together. May the best of luck be ours."

* * *

**thanks for reading ;w;**


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